London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival: Opening Night

Tonight the 26th LLGFF opens with the road comedy Cloudburst. Starring venerable Oscar-winners Olympia Dukakis and Brenda Fricker as lezzies on the lam, the film breaks new ground in presenting a long-term lesbian couple as heroines of their own adventure, while presenting their relationship as a given. After 31 years together, Stella and Dot find themselves separated when Dot's grand-daughter has her committed to a home. Stella breaks her out and the two go on the run.

Dukakis is a revelation as Stella, an unreconstructed butch, trading earthy jokes with her partner, while giving anyone who crosses her path an earful of her foul-mouthed opinions. The opening shot establishes the feel of the film brilliantly, with Dukakis, resplendent in flannel shirt and cowgirl hat, at the wheel of a pick-up, humming along to k.d. lang (several of whose early songs feature on the soundtrack). Marvellous.

Fricker has the tricky task of offering understated support as Dot, the blind, fragile partner to Dukakis' exuberant lead, but she also has some great moments, although the comic setpiece that finds her headbutting a naked man in bed is misjudged. The film does occasionally stray into crude slapstick, but there are so many great moments that the mis-steps don't spoil the fun.

One might question the necessity of introducing Ryan Doucette's metrosexual dancer Prentice to join the women on the run, but perhaps writer-director Thom Fitzgerald thought this would provide eye candy for the boys, the number of times Doucette takes off his shirt.

I was looking forward to meeting Ms. Dukakis for an interview today, but she has cancelled her appearance at the festival. A shame that, as I was hoping to get some butch tips from her.

Other highlights to look forward to: docs on Alice Walker, Patty Schemel, Vito Russo and Jobriath; hotly-tipped dramas Circumstance, Gun Hill Road and Stud Life; and chances to see Weekend, Pariah and Potiche.

The 26th London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival runs from 23 March to 1 April at BFI Southbank.

Standing Drummer, Kneeling Guitarist

As a long-time devotee of music, one sees peaks and troughs, and recently I have heard little to inspire me: playlisted radio, awards handed out to mediocrities--it's a bit dulling to the senses.

And then there's Plaided. Watching their progress from a distance, I wondered where this Vienna duo would go, and last night's gig at the Lexington gave the answer. Formed from the ashes of Ilsebill, Plaided take guitar and drums places they didn't know they wanted to go, down dark post-punk alleys, teeming with pissed-off Riot Grrrls who've nicked Kleenex's records.

A delightful study in contrasts, the band features diminutive Veronika on scratchy guitar and plaintive vocals, complemented by the Amazonian Julia on tribal drums, the two making such a racket one would think four or five players were on stage. But for the last number they switched, and Veronika prowled the stage, a single drumstick in hand, while her bandmate knelt down to pick out her guitar part.

Watching from the audience were some of their Vienna posse, including some burlesque performers and erstwhile Ilsebill bandmate Lena, who is now studying in the UK. It all added to the rough-hewn charm of the gig.

Plaided have one single out on Fettkakao, with an album to follow in summer.

Happy IWD

Hope you are enjoying International Women's Day, which has been trending at the top of Twitter's topics all day.

The news has been mixed, with a BBC exec stating the corporation no longer worries about gender; Pussy Riot still in jail; and an exhibit of women musicians shot by women snappers opening in London.

Here's Pussy Riot in action.

Radio: the professional way

Just catching up on my Deutsche Welle news, when I thought my player was malfunctioning. I distinctly heard the newsreader pause and then utter: "Scheisse", before continuing. (03:39)

Wow! What was the producer doing allowing that to go out unedited?

Extra funny points for it being "langsame gesprochene" reports designed to teach non-natives German!

If Not Us, Who?

My review of this film, which opens in the UK tomorrow, is up now at The Quietus.

The editors re-wrote the headline and intro. I am biased, but I prefer mine: "War of Words: ideological bed-hopping in Andres Veiel's lumpen drama... "

I mean: "ideological bed-hopping". That's pretty good, right?

Took me 24 hours to work out that "Baader Romance" was a Lady Gaga reference. Not down with the kids.

She Makes War

Last night hopped down to trendy Hoxton to check out She Makes War at the Underbelly, a venue I have never visited. Wow! Art Deco meets punk seems about right for Hoxton Square.

I had arranged to interview Laura (aka SMW) before the gig, so sat through soundcheck taking some sound snippets for the podcast and then we had an insightful chat in the aromatic surrounds of the ladies loo, as she made herself up. I find gig preparation fascinating, and was impressed by her multi-tasking in applying quite large under-eye sequins while discussing her songwriting.

Then it was time for the gig, by which time I found myself under-powered, so sat in one of the plush chairs rather than standing at the front, which is my preferred position. The sound had improved markedly from soundcheck, though the buzz of crowd chatter still cut through, to my annoyance.

She Makes War is the epitome of DIY and came armed with electric guitar, acoustic guitar, ukulele and multiple pedals, all well deployed. Vocally, she was in fine form. I pondered whom her voice recalls, and it finally hit me: Grog, when she was in Flinch, all those years ago (not her present goth pomp incarnation). It has the same forceful, slightly mannered quality of a voice that demands to be heard.

Her looping technique is quite marvellous, building up layers of sound, both vocal and instrumental, and then breaking it down again. I found myself writing down snippets of lyrics, as well. She was joined for new single "In This Boat", by Mish from headliners BirdEatsBaby, the latter's keyboard adding little flourishes to SMW's guitar and vocals. Bodes well for the second album, due in April.

Joining the Dots

Earlier in the week I ventured out to Tate Modern for the much-heralded Yayoi Kusama retrospective. Kusama was a name I'd heard but not really known much about, other than that she was name-checked in Le Tigre's "Hot Topic". Recently, Amanda Palmer blogged about Kusama's Obliteration Room on a visit to Brisbane, which piqued my curiosity and, lo and behold, the Obliteration Room also makes an appearance at the Tate. But you have to look for it, as it is not part of the main exhibit.

There is much to be found in Kusama's work. An octogenarian, she has worked in numerous genres, locales and time periods, from Op Art and Pop Art, 1960s hippy happenings in New York, art films and of course, the ubiquitous dots. Her early phallic sculptures occupy a couple of the early rooms. Then there is a series of rather flat, dark paintings, and then it gets more interesting, with photos and film of her performances on the streets of New York, including one outside the New York Stock Exchange. Occupy would love that. The last three rooms offer a delightful juxtaposition of dark and light, with room 13 exploding into glorious colour, showing that in the 1990s she was still moving in new directions, even if the captions offer a rather sobering preoccupation with an inability to find love.

As I entered the final room, a disorienting infinity chamber, the guard at the entrance barked, "Move along, please!", denying people the pleasure of lingering in its wonder. We then found ourselves dumped out in a concrete antechamber, unable to get back into the exhibit. So much for retracing my steps and visiting previous rooms, as I'd intended. A sorry end to the visit.

The biography of Kusama is not really apparent throughout the exhibit, but a tiny glimpse is found in the short film on view outside the entrance. In it, the artist, a vibrant woman with a startling cherry-red bob, is seen at work in her studio in Tokyo, across the road from the mental institution where she lives. It is never explained whether she actually has a mental illness, but she has lived there by choice since 1977. This nugget of information rather leaves questions hanging in the air.

One could make a case for spending a care-free hour in the Obliteration Room, tucked away on level one, and skipping the main exhibit altogether. After all, it is fun, immersive, colourful, and interactive, as well as context- and cost-free. It touches obliquely on the artist's themes, embracing dots, colour and repetition. When I visited, it was half term and numerous parents had brought their restless offspring for a day out. The kids loved it, climbing all over the furniture, stickering the adults and themselves, as well as all of the furnishings.

The bright colours of the stickers are irresistible, and I found myself standing on a chair stretching to put a sticker on the ceiling, enjoying the freedom to do what in any other context would be vandalism. This obliteration feels like nothing so much as an obliteration of normalcy, of filling in something that is blank. But it is called the Obliteration Room for a reason, giving voice to Kusama's fears and fascinations. Not really child's play, at all.

Words and Visions

There's been precious little Kunst on Kunstblog so far this year, but I am making up for this slow start, with three exhibits so far this week. Will leave Kusama until later, but tonight I was in Hackney for two private views, both of which were in the same complex in Regent Studios.

First up: Needle's Eye at Transition Gallery, also home to Garageland magazine. Four painters were on show, and I was at first confused, as the paintings had no labels. Who was who? This was quickly ameliorated by the accompanying fact sheet, but I also had my own private tour, courtesy of curator Ruth Solomons, who explained the links between the artists. Aside from them all having some connection with Bow Arts Trust, she explained, they have also influenced each other.

Seeing the works unlabelled side by side, I was able to work out some distinguishing features: Ben Walker works from a very dark palette, Kim Baker's work recalls the Impressionists, and Lisa McKendrick has an interest in science. Louisa Chambers's series can be read either individually or together, and I particularly liked her sci-fi lighthouse, Beams. The show opens tomorrow and runs through 11 March.

Then it was upstairs to Five Years for the wordy A Pigeon, a Kitchen and an Annexe: Sites of Alternative Publishing, which was appropriate, because it was all about words turned into art. The Ladies of the Press* collective set out texts for all of the contributing publications (Annexe, Pigeon, and VerySmallKitchen) to respond to, and the result was a multi-faceted installation crammed into a tiny room, the centrepiece of which was a cardboard column, courtesy of VerySmall Kitchen.

While manoeuvring myself around the space, I bumped into several people with very nice cameras, one of whom turned out to be from Pigeon, and after Ana from Ladies of the Press* made introductions, I spoke to the Pigeon crew about their practice. Still in education, they are concerned with making their process transparent and honest. They also work both online and in hard copy, which referenced a question I had: what is the role of print in the digital age? Some of this conversation should turn up in my next Odd Girl Out podcast, but the answer seems to be: print is alive and kicking for awhile yet.The exhibit opens tomorrow and runs through 4 March.

My week

It's been a busy week, with visits to Tate Modern and Occupy LSX, as well as some snowy walks through the 'stow (or #awesomestow, as it's known on Twitter--Cringe).

I have also been on 't social media, uploading films to Vimeo to join my second Odd Girl Out podcast on Soundcloud. Do check them out and comment, if you like.

Am quite enjoying the snow, although I am not too suited to cold climates. I have found, however, that the fingerless gloves I bought for a costume last year come in right handy for typing in this weather.

Human Sirens

Human Sirens in Pyhajoki from Hai Art on Vimeo.

Advice from Sundance

Courtesy of Women and Hollywood comes this post on advice for women filmmakers.

Chicken and Egg party from Trixie Films on Vimeo.

Occupy Takes Centre-stage

Some of the best theatre around these days is to be found on the streets, rather than in proscenium theatres, and I have watched the burgeoning Occupy movement with interest. While the tent cities that have sprung up around the world get the headlines, often because of clashes with the police or threats of eviction, lesser attention has gone to the very creative avenues that the protesters have gone down.

In London, for example Tony Blair was on trial this week for war crimes, in proceedings that could be watched online. Today Vivienne Westwood was speaking about the banking industry at the Tent City University (politics makes strange bedfellows) and tomorrow, a teach-out on City finances will be conducted in the Barbican Centre.

The trial venue was the grey monolith of Old Street Magistrates Court, which hasn't seen such proceedings since 1996, which is almost as long as I have lived in London. Many is the time I have walked past its sad frontage, wondering why this behemoth remains unused. Which is part of the point of the movement: to enter these corridors of power and demand they be accountable. And to make salient points about distribution of wealth and privilege, power and profit.

But it is increasingly being done in rather clever ways, with spinoffs into music, design, etc., showing that it isn't just placard-waving that makes a statement. It kind of reminds me of the early days of the queer movement in the '90s, which moved away from mass street protest and into other avenues, with smaller, more focused confrontations with the seats of power. But, of course there was no Twitter then. This is a zeitgeisty movement.

Winter Duet

Traipsing around south London on the coldest day of the year, I interrupted the animated conversation of these two, as they admired the clear blue sky and wondered where the warmth went.

Riot Grrrl is not dead compilation

It's good to start off the new year with a bounty of music, and Riot Grrrl Is Not Dead! comes courtesy of Riot Grrrl Berlin, who have collected bands from across Europe and North America (with a smattering from South America, the Antipodes and some place called Grrrlmany--look that up on Google Earth!) for a free download comp.

I only found out about it courtesy of Twitter (yes, about four years behind the times), but it's been available for a few weeks now and features a mix of old and new, including the US band Scarce, whom I've never heard described as Riot Grrrl, and several who've been associated with Ladyfest. There is no band info in the zip file. For that, you need to scroll down the website page to get the links. Enjoy!

2011 Favourites

So, a brief recap of 2011's brighter moments, according to yours truly. This was an unusual year, in that I never left London, and my picks reflect that.

Favourite art exhibit:
Pipilotti Rist: Eyeball Massage
A legal psychedelic trip, with bubbles, knickers, and all manner of visual delights. Running at Hayward Gallery until 8 January.

Favourite film:
Dreams of a Life, dir. Carol Morley
Moving and profound imagining of a life lost in London. Running now in UK.

Favourite gig / live event:
Sound and Silents
Live scoring of four short films from early women directors, which played at Queen Elizabeth Hall in March as part of the Bird's Eye View festival.

Favourite album:
W, Planningtorock
A late spring release that I continued to play into winter. Quite moody, at times disturbing, but also playful conceptual album from Janine Rostron, whose stage get-up resembles one of Buffy's demons.

Shirin Neshat on Winter

This is Shirin Neshat's contribution to the New York Times' Seasons project. Sadly, there is no way to embed it.

Politics, Art and a President

So, farewell to Vaclav Havel, one-time dissident-turned president. I was always impressed that the first president of Czechoslovakia, Masaryk, was a philosopher and the first president of the Czech Republic was a playwright, and one influenced by the Velvet Underground, at that. It says a lot.

International Human Rights Day

Today is the 63rd anniversary of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights. I don't think Hillary Clinton has made an appearance in this blog, but here is her speech this week declaring that LGBT rights are human rights.

Dreams of a Life

My Quietus story on Dreams of a Life is finally live, although I could have written something twice as long, such was my enthusiasm for the film and the abundance of quotes I had from my chat with director Carol Morley. There is so much to say about this documentary on Joyce Carol Vincent and about how people in cities can become strangers to each other.

I reviewed the film briefly when it premiered at the London Film Festival, but only saw it on a preview DVD, so am curious to see how it plays in a cinema with an attentive audience. It's out in the UK on 16 December and also has a preview at the spanking new Hackney Picture House on 9 December, with Morley and star Zawe Ashton conducting a Q&A.

There is also a very strange interactive companion piece, Dreams of Your Life, which I took for a spin a couple of days ago. It's a bit like sitting down with an inquisitive therapist or taking a phone call from a menacing stranger. Not for the easily disturbed.

The pause that refreshes

One of those days. Loads of ideas. Technical hitches. Nothing quite getting finished.